


Seas Between Us

by Copper_mouth



Series: Birds of a Feather [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends to Lovers, Fade to Black, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, I'm the only one who knows how to put up with this idiot to lovers, Identity Reveal, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Needs a Hug, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Post-Iron Man 1, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Requited Unrequited Love, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony never told Rhodey he is Iron Man, and a little fluff as a treat, but watch me avoid plot with a ten foot pole, guess how well that works out, technically happens around Iron Man 2 I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_mouth/pseuds/Copper_mouth
Summary: There's a distance between them after Afghanistan, and it's widening each day. Rhodey is no longer Tony Stark's trusted right-hand man, his confidant and protector. Iron Man is.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Series: Birds of a Feather [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640557
Comments: 18
Kudos: 227





	Seas Between Us

Tony doesn’t tell him he made a _flying suit of armor_ in the cave in Afghanistan until after it’s all over the news following the explosion at SI. Rhodey gets there just in time for another press conference and stands in the back with the rest of Tony’s crew. 

He glances over at Pepper, who’s standing wide-eyed and ashen behind Tony. She hadn’t known at first either, but she at least got a close-up look last night as she helped take down Obadiah Stane with a goddamned arc reactor. 

Okay, he’s probably being a little unfair to consider Pepper finding out about this before him as her getting one over on him, pushing closer in that race he tells himself doesn’t exist to see who gets to be closest to Tony and bear the heavy weight of his trust. He doesn’t like to think like that anyways. And he _is_ glad on the rare occasions Tony ends up with someone good in his life, someone who won’t rip his heart out and sell it to the highest bidder, the way Rhodey’s seen so many do in the past. He’s just protective, that’s all. So far, only two others besides him have stood the test of time – Pepper and Happy. 

Rhodey looks askance at Happy as they watch the press conference play out. Happy’s eyes widen when Tony talks about the Iron Man suit being piloted by his bodyguard, and he turns to Rhodey immediately to clear his name. 

“Not me,” he says, palms out and worried. Rhodey believes him, he tells Happy. He knows Happy well enough to know that whoever it was piloting the armor – it wasn’t him. Wasn’t Pepper either, so he’s not sure who exactly Iron Man is. 

Pepper had been on the phone with Tony off and on as she watched firsthand the two battlesuits duke it out like a pair of untethered rock’em sock’em puppets. She’d listened, terrified, as Iron Man had skittered across the glass ceiling above the arc reactor and Tony had screamed through the phone in her ear to _push the button, Pepper, do it NOW!_ She’d pushed the button, and she’d run outside in her heels, choking back tears, and when she was clear of the building she’d strained her eyes to see the bright blue center of the Iron Man suit flicker back into life. She’d watched as he struggled to his feet, looked down for a moment at where Stane had fallen, then flew off into the night. 

She had to put makeup over the bruises on Tony’s face this morning before the press conference, because apparently Stane had come after him first and tossed him around a bit before he managed to steal one of Tony’s new miniaturized arc reactors for his suit. 

Rhodey’s blood still flooded hot underneath his dress uniform when he thought about Stane getting his hands on Tony. He hadn’t realized Stane’s loyalty was a sham either, and it was his job to _know_ , to be suspicious and look out for Tony, to protect him from all the people who clamored to do him harm. That was _his job_ , and he hadn’t been there. All he’d done was yell at Tony about the stupid government contracts, when Tony had tried to tell him _he couldn’t provide his weapons to **anyone** anymore, because it was his responsibility when they fell into the wrong hands and all that was on **him** , Rhodey, can’t you understand? _

He hadn’t, at the time. But watching the footage of the battle last night, seeing the damage that had been done by one of the people Tony had always trusted the most, he thought he might be starting to. 

Later, surrounded by greasy pizza boxes and empty beer bottles, Tony breaks down and tells them, a little. 

“His name is Yinsen,” Tony says. “He’s the one who took care of me in the cave. Doctored me up a bit, helped me build the suit. Translated, got me up to speed, all that.” 

Apparently he’d been recovering from his time in captivity in some undisclosed location up until this point, which is why no one else had ever met him. But with Stark weapons in unknown and undesirable hands all over the globe and the alphabet agencies disinclined to intervene, someone had to step up and start making things right and protect Tony from all of his newly discovered enemies in the process. That someone, thanks to Tony’s genius and the chutzpah of whoever this guy is supposed to be, is Iron Man. 

Rhodey’s heartbeat is singing in his ears as he listens to Tony describe how he and Yinsen had leaned on each other during captivity, how he’d gone back to get him and brought him to Malibu to recover, and how he still stepped up to protect Tony. 

Rhodey can’t open his mouth because if he does all that will come out will be a litany of _no, no, no, no, no, no_ because who is this guy? He hasn’t met him, hasn’t vetted him, he doesn’t know his tells or his motives, he hasn’t seen the way he looks at Tony, he doesn’t know anything about him and now Tony’s putting his life in his hands? When it’s _Rhodey’s_ job to protect him? If he needed somebody, why wouldn’t he have just asked – 

Some of this must show on his face because Tony looks at him and smiles. “Don’t worry honeybear,” he says. “If Yinsen wanted to hurt me he would have done it by now. This way you won’t have to worry about me so much when you’re off globe-trotting god knows where.” 

And Rhodey sees it now, despite it being kind of the opposite of the point Tony had been trying to make. He knows he hasn’t been there for Tony the way he should have been, the way he promised himself he would always be back when Tony was made up of dark eyes and pale skin from working in the MIT labs for too long. Back when they’d first met, when Tony hadn’t finished growing into himself and had been all sharp elbows and knees dug into Rhodey’s side after he pried him away from the parties with people who should have known better but didn’t give a shit, and had bundled him to sleep safe in his dorm room bed instead. He’d made promises then, if only to himself, and he can see now that he hadn’t kept them. 

Rhodey had let Tony pull the wool over his eyes, let him convince him in his back-handed, _aggravating_ way that he was a big boy now and didn’t need anybody looking after him. 

Well, Rhodey knows the truth now. Tony needs him, like he always has. And even if he always, _always_ needs him without fail or reprieve, Rhodey is going to be there for him. He’s going to do better, from now on. 

His transfer request is approved quickly for once, and he’s stationed in the country for the first time in a decade. He gets more than a few raised eyebrows from the brass when he informs them not so subtly that he will be focusing on his duties as Stark Industries liaison over everything else indefinitely, but since they’re still trying to get Tony’s name back on their dotted lines they don’t give him more than a token protest. 

His next step is to figure out some way to get himself on equal footing with Iron Man – physically, of course. He’s already miles beyond him in everything else that matters. He’s sure of it. 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for Rhodey to bully Tony into a suit of his own. The pressure from SHIELD probably helps, though Rhodey likes to think it would have been enough with his request alone. It gets the government off their backs, at least. 

In no time at all, Tony is dragging him down to the workshop, and Rhodey stumbles to a halt in the middle of a semi-circle of half-finished suits, barely hearing anything Tony is jabbering about as he gets his first real look and soaks it all in. 

Tony is almost giddy with excitement as he walks him through the armor’s controls and shows him everything the suit can do. Rhodey can’t blame him though. The suit is amazing, beyond words – _Tony_ is amazing, beyond words. Finally he’s able to get Tony to pause in his nervous rambling, and Rhodey gets his hands on Tony’s shoulders and Tony smiles up at him, bright and open and easy the way he hasn’t been in years. 

He tries to get his mouth to form words in some kind of coherence, tries to tell Tony how mind-bendingly brilliant he is, and how proud Rhodey is of him, but when he pulls Tony in for a hug his face goes shuttered, and he pushes out of his arms and sends him packing with a distracted dismissal that doesn’t hurt Rhodey any less for how contrived he knows it to be. 

That’s the last time he’s able to have a real conversation with him for a long while. Tony’s pulling back from Rhodey at the same time that he’s trying to press forward, but Tony’s always been better at this game, and Rhodey eventually finds himself on the outside of an impenetrable wall, plucking vainly at the seams. 

Still, they get War Machine up and running pretty quickly, and Rhodey learns how to work when he’s needed with Iron Man, how to maneuver around the guy and mesh up their respective strengths and weaknesses until they’re a passable, if somewhat reluctant team. 

They go on missions for SHIELD, and Rhodey kowtows to the military while Tony and Iron Man continue to ignore them, and slowly the errant SI weapons are recovered, and they can branch out and focus on other things. 

Months into their tenuously new partnership and Iron Man still doesn’t talk to him much. Most of their conversations are Rhodey trying to get updates on Tony from him. Tony is barely talking to him at this point; he’s still shutting Rhodey out like he does when he knows he’s not taking care of himself and can’t handle anyone else trying to take care of him either. 

But Rhodey’s got no shame about playing dirty, not when it’s Tony’s wellbeing on the line. He’ll get his information where he can, even if he has to go through the titanium-plated hired help to get it. 

They’re having one of their stilted conversations, Rhodey trying to pry without seeming like he’s prying, Iron Man giving him monosyllabic answers when he can. Rhodey’s not letting up though, and finally Iron Man explodes, just a little, at him. 

“Why do you even care so much about that asshole? Tony Stark, Tony Stark – is he all you think about? God, I get sick of hearing about him all goddamn day.” 

Rhodey stills for a moment, then forces himself to unclench his hands inside of the gauntlets. He chuckles a little, lightly and deceptively casual. 

“You know, a lot of the time he _is_ all I think about,” Rhodey admits. He clocks how quickly Iron Man’s helm turns towards him when he says that, but he doesn’t care. That admission ceased being something he hid for its own vulnerability’s sake years ago. Nowadays anyone who actually gets him would know it to be true. Probably the whole planet except for Tony himself knows already anyways. 

He takes a step forward, then another, then he’s in Iron Man’s face and Iron Man’s letting him crowd him up against the wall. “But if I ever hear you say anything like that about him again, I _will_ kick your shiny red ass ‘til you won’t know a repulsor from the high-beams of my Chevy. I don’t know who you think you are or what kind of relationship you have exactly with Tony, but I’ll be damned if you’re gonna get inside of _his_ tech, fight in _his_ name, and then go around stomping it all under your little gold bootie.” 

Iron Man stares at him for a long time before he pushes him off. The way the faceplate gives nothing away is almost eerie, but Rhodey juts his bared chin out and stares him down until finally he says, “I’m not saying anything about him that he wouldn’t. I just know him, that’s all.” 

Rhodey snorts. “And you think I don’t? Been looking after that asshole since he was just a scrawny kid at MIT. But _I’m_ the only one who gets to call him that.” 

Iron Man laughs a little at that, and he sounds so fond even through the voice filter that Rhodey’s chest tightens up with something a little too close to jealousy for comfort. 

He’s glad Tony has Iron Man, though, he tells himself as he watches him fly off. He’s glad Tony has another person he can trust, someone to be on his side and help take care of him – the way Rhodey’s supposed to. The way Tony won’t let him anymore. He’s _glad_ , he tells himself viciously as he clomps over to the edge of the roof and launches himself into the air as well. 

Rhodey checks in with Tony even when he’s called to the field for last-minute missions, when Tony will answer the phone and actually talk to him anyways. When he finally gets Tony’s attention for more than a few minutes, he asks about Yinsen. About him flying the Iron Man armor, why he never takes his faceplate off. 

“Disfigured,” Tony tells him. “Had to go through some brutal shit in that cave to survive, doesn’t like to look at the results. Doesn’t want anyone to see them either.” 

Rhodey presses him further, asks him _why_ , asks him _doesn’t he know his teammate wouldn’t care about something like that_ . He ignores the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that’s not the reason why he wants Iron Man to take his helmet off. 

But Tony says sharply, cutting him off, “Because he barely feels human anymore. He feels like he can’t be human if he wants to survive, and he doesn’t want to see anyone else looking at him the same way.” 

He’s stunned into silence, but he realizes his mistake when Tony waves him off with a cutting smile he usually only uses for the press and tells him cheerfully that he has to get going now, people to do and things to see, you know how it is. 

He hugs his phone to his chest after the call disconnects on Tony’s false-smiling face, feels the heat coming off the hard rectangle through his tac gear and looks over at nothing until he’s paged by his CO and told he’s needed again. 

Next week he’s back fighting by Iron Man’s side. They work well together, he has to admit – when he’s not too busy side-eying the guy. They still don’t talk much, but it’s probably better that way. Leave it to Tony to befriend the one person on earth who’s even more of an irreverent jackass than he is. 

Rhodey does despair when he realizes that not only does Iron Man match Tony for his sharp wit and sarcasm, but also for his general lack of self-preservation skills. It’s almost too much for him at times, trying to keep an eye on his teammate and make sure he doesn’t do anything dangerous and stupid, while still focusing on completing their missions. 

The third time Rhodey pulls him from the wreckage of Iron Man using his own armored body as a battering ram, he can admit he’s seeing a little red. 

“What is wrong with you?” he yells, but Iron Man just holds his midsection and laughs and laughs and laughs. The sound the armor translates his laughter into is a hollow, eerie crackle, and it echoes endlessly through the quiet the streets only reach in the aftermath of a battle. Rhodey’s deflated a little by the end of it. 

He stares at Iron Man, wiped-out with exhaustion from worrying the candle at both ends. Everything aches and gravity’s pulling him down too hard for how early in the fucking week it is. Today, he can’t wait to get the suit off. 

Finally Iron Man says, “The answer to that could fill a whole server,” before he takes off and leaves Rhodey standing there, sagging, in the rubble and dust. It takes a few moments before Rhodey even remembers the question he’d asked him. 

Next time he sees Tony, after he nags Pepper into CC-ing him into Tony’s schedule and catches him by surprise at a luncheon for clean energy developers, he tells him, “Your friend Yinsen is nuts.” 

Tony chuckles darkly, still looking a little pissed that Rhodey showed up out of the blue. He’s been looking at his phone and muttering to JARVIS more than he’s paid attention to Rhodey or the presentation. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” he says. 

He catches Tony rubbing at his chest absently, notices the well-blended makeup no one but him could probably have spotted, covering Tony’s face and disappearing down the lines of his neck. His stomach twists further into that constant knot of anxiety he’s been carrying around with him, all the worse for the fact that he still doesn’t know _why._

Rhodey stands to clap politely and shake a few hands when the speeches are over, and by the time he turns back around Tony’s napkin is balled up on his untouched place setting and he’s long gone. 

He tries again two days later, letting himself into the mansion on the flimsiest excuse he and JARVIS’s protocols can come up with. 

One of the things that makes him so successful at his job, and everything else important in life, is that he can see when a strategy isn’t working and it’s time to try a new one. 

This time he doesn’t bring up any touchy subjects, doesn’t react when Tony stumbles a little rising from his chair, doesn’t even mention when Tony hastily shuts down his open project files when Rhodey lets himself into the workshop, like he can’t trust Rhodey to see. 

He lets it slide off him like water, just tosses the old coffee cups and the smoothies DUM-E had brought Tony before bundling him out of the house for pitchers of margaritas and way too much Mexican food. 

Tony sighs as he twirls his fourth or fifth glass in his hand and leans back to consider the ocean. They drove down the coast a bit to the little local joint Tony likes to frequent when he’s had enough of people snapping pictures and shoving microphones under his face whenever he goes out. The salty humidity of the air is comforting here after dealing with the dry heat that’s been plaguing the season so far. 

There’s a warm breeze blowing in, lifting the strands of lights woven across the deck and making the colors blink soothingly against their skin. Rhodey pops another chip in his mouth and leans his chin on his palm to wait, letting Tony pull together whatever words he can find that might lighten his load a little. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, platypus,” is the soft admission, spoken down into a rim of salt and lime. Nothing else is forthcoming. 

Rhodey reaches across the table to grip Tony’s free hand in his own. 

“I don’t either,” he says with a huff and half a smile. Tony’s dark eyes rise to meet his, and the corners of his lips pull upwards as well. “But whatever it is, I’m here for it. I’ve got your back.” 

Later, after Tony’s stumbled to bed and Rhodey collapses onto the couch, he tilts his head back to look through the window at the night sky and he can’t help but wonder. Wonder and worry, he thinks idly. That’s the job description that comes with being Tony Stark’s best friend. 

No matter that he’s despaired of that title since it was granted to him, damn near twenty years ago. 

The very next day, things begin to stop adding up. 

The official report on Tony’s abduction comes across his desk. Rhodey’s clearance level means that none of the account Tony gave has been redacted, but he thinks even an untrained eye could tell there are gaps in the story, things that just don’t line up. 

He thumbs through the pages, skimming the sections that detail the attack on the convoy, the various search and rescue missions that had been deployed, the makeup of the specific terrorist group that had captured Tony. Rhodey is already well too familiar with all of that. He stops when he gets to the part about Tony’s fellow captive and raises his eyebrow at the honorific _Dr_. before the name of Ho Yinsen. 

Frowning, he takes a closer look. There is a picture of an older man with glasses and a serene expression, along with a few paragraphs detailing his personal and professional life. He notes with interest that Yinsen was a published and lauded physicist before his capture in Afghanistan. 

Shifting over to his laptop, Rhodey finds what he can about the doctor. He reads through several dry academic papers, then has a stroke of luck when he unearths a recording of one of Yinsen’s presentations from only a few years ago. 

Rhodey watches as the man walks across the stage and greets the other presenters, notes the calm cadence of his voice and the light accent with which he speaks. He listens to the whole speech, marking the small amount of controlled gestures the doctor uses while he talks, the way he settles into himself at the podium and jokes gently with the audience. 

When the video is over, Rhodey watches it again, then a third time. And he can’t help but think, unless his time in captivity completely respooled his personality to a degree that’s honestly chilling to consider, Ho Yinsen is not the person in the Iron Man suit. 

The next time he’s at SHIELD HQ, he makes it a point to track down Iron Man, who’s currently kicked back on the roof, regarding the sky in as pensive a manner as a mostly faceless hunk of articulated metal can. He shakes himself and straightens up when he sees Rhodey though, almost like a dog perking up when they hear something, he thinks with a grin. 

“Hey Rhod – Rhodes,” Iron Man says with a little wave. 

Rhodey narrows his eyes but doesn’t comment on the stutter, or the uncharacteristically friendly greeting. He comes to a stop with his hands on his hips and eyeballs his teammate, who fidgets in front of him. 

Yeah, no way in hell is this the guy Rhodey watched on the conference video. His back twinges a little as he breathes in deep, a sure sign that he’s approaching exhaustion. Seems like every path he tries to go down gets slammed with a roadblock as soon as he steps foot on it, and yeah – he is tired of it. He’s tired in general, honestly. 

He sighs, tips his faceplate down, and settles in on the ground beside him. “Iron Man,” he answers a little belatedly, and they fall into silence together. 

It’s actually kind of nice on the roof, the suit’s controls keeping him a comfortable temperature as he watches the clouds high above them. He only realizes that his eyes are starting to close when a mechanized voice asks him incredulously, “Are you going to sleep?” 

“No,” he retorts as he blinks a few times. What the hell – only Tony was ever able to tell when he was doing his patented Stealth Nap behind his sunglasses. 

“And what are you doing up here?” he asks in return. 

Iron Man’s sigh is a harsh buzz of static. “Hiding from Fury,” he says. “He only wants me to do a million things for him at any given moment, on top of my other _real_ job.” 

That gets Rhodey’s interest – it’s the most Iron Man has said about himself since they’ve started working as a team. Iron Man must realize it too because he makes his excuses quickly and scurries away, leaving Rhodey to watch him suspiciously as he takes off. 

He gets home that night and automatically turns over to one of the press conferences Tony had attended to address his and SI’s role in one of the larger battles the public got wind of – he’s been re-watching it obsessively since the day it aired. 

Iron Man follows Tony onto the platform for the speakers, moving stiffly and with none of his usual grace and panache. He speaks rarely, Tony usually talking over him when he’s asked a question, and what he says is flat and uninspiring. 

Looking at this and knowing what he does, Rhodey would say it was some SHIELD stooge in the suit. But why the deception from Tony then? He turns it over in his head until he falls asleep, but he comes no closer to an answer. 

Sipping his coffee the next morning, he thinks about everything he’s seen so far, and what he hasn’t seen. As far as he’s concerned, Iron Man’s identity is unknown to him, no matter what Tony or SHIELD try to tell him. This is a problem because if Rhodey doesn’t know who Iron Man is, he can’t gauge how much of a threat he really poses to Tony. 

On the other hand, nothing about Iron Man himself suggests he is anything but loyal to Tony and to SHIELD, no matter how scathingly he likes to disparage them each in turn. 

As he’s mulling things over, his phone chirps to let him know he’s received a message. He glances at it to see a picture from Tony, or rather JARVIS – Dum-E balanced precariously on his side as he leans up into the air, determinedly trying to place a murky-looking smoothie in the cupholder of the convertible Tony has jacked up off the ground so he can work underneath. 

Rhodey snorts into his mug, then breaks out into helpless laughter at the video that pops up next: Dum-E flying through the workshop with green sludge dripping down his arm, Tony scrambling after him and cursing as he shakes drops of smoothie out of his hair, Butterfingers and U beeping merrily in the background. 

He shakes his head as the video ends, the last frame settling on a grinning Tony who’s no longer trying to hide his amusement as he lambasts the bots as well as JARVIS for “encouraging” them and of course, recording. Rhodey stares, lost in thought, at the still image of Tony’s smiling face until the screen of his phone turns dark. 

The cream is separating out of his coffee from the amount of time he’s been sitting and ruminating over the situation, but he’s come no closer to a resolution. He stands with a sigh and dumps the rest of it down the sink. 

He should trust Tony, he decides reluctantly. Quit trying to figure out what Iron Man’s name is, what his face looks like, and just take him as he is. Give him and Tony a chance to show that they actually know what they’re doing with all of this. 

And if it goes south, well Rhodey knows how to take out the trash. Unless that happens though, he’s just going to have to quell his lingering sense of unease and stop treating Iron Man like a mystery to be cracked. Whoever it is, he deserves that much. 

Slowly, it gets easier to talk with Iron Man, have a full conversation without suspicions flaring or somebody stomping off. Rhodey is surprised to discover they have an easy rapport when they’re not at each other’s throats, though he knows that Iron Man is still keeping a lot of himself carefully tucked away. That’s all right though. He doesn’t need the guy’s whole life story. All he needs to know is whether or not he can trust him to be on Tony’s side, no matter what happens. 

He tells him as such, one day. Iron Man seems surprised. 

“Wait, _that’s_ your problem with me?” he asks. “You still haven’t figured out if I’m loyal to Stark or not? And here I thought it was my winning personality that was causing your hang-ups.” 

Rhodey ignores that last little bit because he does not have _hang-ups_ , thank you very much. “That’s why I wasn’t sure if I _did_ have a problem with you or not,” he says. “But, Iron Man, it’s been months we’ve been fighting together. You’ve stuck your neck out and saved Tony’s too many times to count. I have to say – thank you for that. I may have some trust issues, but you’ve proven yourself to me. Unless you’re in it for the really long con, there’s no other reason for you to fight like you do other than loyalty to Tony.” 

Iron Man stares at him for a few moments after his little speech, then scoffs and looks away. “You’d think,” he mutters, but Rhodey’s gotten used to the odd little quips and non-sequiturs he makes when he can’t seem to help himself. 

It doesn’t change the fact that Rhodey has slowly come to trust him to have Tony’s back, at least. The man’s secrets have secrets, and Rhodey’s aware that he barely knows anything about the guy inside the armor. But, his main priority is Tony. As long as he has that in common with Iron Man, they’re all good. 

Iron Man crosses his arms with a whirl of servos and regards him curiously. “You really, truly care about Stark, don’t you?” he asks. 

Rhodey glares at him, and debates shooting him off the roof for even having to question that. “More than anything,” he replies. “But don’t ask me some dumb shit like that again. You’d have to be a moron not to know that.” 

Iron Man laughs at that and shakes his head with a self-deprecating little twist. Rhodey’s getting good at reading his expressions through the armor. 

“Don’t I know it,” he says. 

Rhodey lets him prove himself by saving Tony a few more times before he loosens up fully and buys him the metaphorical club jacket. A couple break-ins at SI, some second-rate villains thinking it would easier to steal Tony’s tech than create their own, that one time when Tony was caught in the middle of an attack on Manhattan by giant irradiated mutant squids in a stunning display of his ability to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time – Iron Man handles them all. 

He doesn’t like it – Tony being in danger at all. One of the only things that ever got him through the long nights and the years spent fighting and working on the other side of the world, was the thought that Tony was safe at home, tucked away behind the defenses of that Ivory Tower he lives in and his own razor-sharp mind. Whenever he’s been gone too long and can start to feel his skin crawling with how much he aches to come back home, he pictures Tony, protected and secure, and it gets him through. But if Tony is going to thrust himself into Rhodey’s world of death and danger, at least he can count on Iron Man to be there to defend him. 

Some of the tension permanently disappears from the set of his shoulders as he sees that he’s not the only one able to get Tony out of a jam anymore. 

He’s maybe getting to the point where he’s annoyed at Iron Man for not taking the helmet off more for the sake of their own camaraderie than the fact that he doesn’t trust him, but he grits his teeth and stays focused on what really matters. 

In the end, he gets too comfortable, hanging around and having long conversations with the only other person on the planet who probably knows just how difficult it is to keep Tony out of harm’s way. He gets comfortable, and it makes him sloppy, and after a long, slow day at SHIELD they head back to Tony’s place and he ends up having two or three or seven or eight drinks with the guy, and his mouth is maybe running away from him. 

At his third drink mark, he starts talking about his job and how much he loves it. Four drinks in, he’s maybe feeling a little maudlin, he may be humming Auld Lang Syne under his breath, he may not be. By the time he reaches his sixth drink, his only topic is Tony. How Tony dragged him out to Las Vegas in the early nineties and made him party with a group of New Agers fresh off the Roswell tour bus until he could taste the vibrations of the music they were dancing to. How Tony paid for his plane ticket to go see his mama in the hospital after only knowing him for a week. How fucking brilliant he is to have coded a series of increasingly complex bots while black-out drunk as a teenager in the bowels of MIT, how he always gets Rhodey laughing and out of his head no matter how bad his mood may be, how that prick of a father Howard never appreciated Tony for what he was, how Tony can revolutionize an entire industry in his sleep, how Tony was so goddamn brave to take responsibility and do the right thing in shutting down Stark Industries’ weapons manufacturing. 

As he drinks and talks and sprawls out on the couch, Iron Man gets more and more quiet, his own glass forgotten in favor of listening to Rhodey ramble. 

“You really think he did the right thing shutting down the weapons division?” Iron Man asks quietly. 

Rhodey scoffs up at Iron Man, who quickly turns away to ignore him in favor of the orange bendy straw he starts twirling through his gauntleted fingers. 

“How many times I got to say the same damn thing?” he grumbles, and then he assures Iron Man that yes, he is unbearably proud of Tony – of course that’s the case. He probably assures him of a lot of other stuff he shouldn’t have, but he tries to convince himself that nothing really incriminating happened, certainly not those half-formed memories of him lying on the couch with his head in Iron Man’s lap saying shit like _I’ve always loved him, man, he doesn’t even know_ and _he’s really a sweetheart though he tries to hide it, I wish he’d let me show him he doesn’t have to_ and even _God I just – I just **wish**_. 

No one’s there at the mansion when he wakes up, so he just tucks his shades on and slinks off, praying Iron Man won’t give him a hard time for the feelings for his employer he definitely did not give away last night. Though honestly, if he’d just been paying attention he would have figured it out a _long_ , long time ago. 

It’s a little embarrassing playing the pining best friend for two decades, going on three, but can anyone really blame him? It’s just a fact of his life at this point. He tries not to let it get to him. 

To his surprise, Tony reaches out to him next. Smiling, he picks up after only one ring. 

“Hey Tones,” he says. “What’s up? You alright?” Because usually Tony only calls him when he’s in trouble, and it’s alright – really it is – but that means when he gets a call out of nowhere he should probably prepare himself, just in case. 

Tony must be thinking along the same lines because he immediately starts ribbing him for only thinking Tony wants him around when he’s in a jam. And Rhodey knows it’s not true, he does, but still it’s nice to hear it come out of Tony’s mouth too. After a few minutes of Tony’s rambling, Rhodey gathers that he’s asking him to go out and spend some time with him, make a night out of it. 

He tells Tony to pick him up at eight and the smile stays on his face for the rest of the day. 

Things are really good for a while after that. His job is going great, he’s working just fine with Iron Man, and Tony is actually making time for him in a way that’s rare with how busy Rhodey knows he can be. 

Rhodey tells him not to put anything important on the backburner just for him, but Tony looks at him a little sadly and says that Rhodey shouldn’t let him get away with being so self-absorbed all the time. He doesn’t really have an answer for that, but he opens his arms anyways so Tony can lean back against him and curl up under the blanket to watch the rest of their movie, as outside it starts to rain. 

So Tony gets them front-row seats at games and fights, takes Rhodey to that massage place he loves and laughs at his blissed out face covered in mud, the little shit, and he lets Rhodey pull him out of the workshop at the end of the day to cook dinner together so he gets something to eat, and Rhodey lets Tony spoil him because he knows it’s his way of showing love and saying sorry and lowering his walls just enough for Rhodey to squeeze inside. 

And if Rhodey watches him a little too long as he walks down the hall to his bedroom, if he closes his eyes in the shower and dreams of having Tony in there with him to press against the tiles, if he wants to lean in and lick the little bit of frosting that gets stuck to Tony’s beard after dessert instead of balling up a napkin to throw at him, well. Nobody has to worry about that but Rhodey himself. 

Sometimes he catches Tony looking at him when he doesn’t expect it, eyes dark and heavy under his lashes, but Tony just gives him a slow smile and a wisecrack and then nothing seems out of the normal at all. 

Slowly, carefully, the knot in the center of Rhodey’s chest unfurls and reaches towards the light. Sometimes over the years he and Tony have gotten into these really good grooves where they just _mesh_ , and Rhodey’s not too busy working and Tony’s not too busy sprinting away from taking care of himself so fast he’s basically free-falling, and the world stops going after them for just a bit and sits back and lets them have this – this time, this moment, this lull in between the waves pounding them against the shore. 

And this will ebb and flow and eventually they’ll drift back into their own separate streams. It always happens, just as inevitably as when Rhodey graduated MIT a year before Tony and flew off to a base on the other side of the country before the ink on his diploma even had a chance to dry. It’s not like he ever _wants_ it to happen, but – life just pulls them in different directions a lot of the time. 

He knows it’s coming, but _goddamn_ if he isn’t going to enjoy this while he has it. Let anyone say what they will, but no one who knows them can deny that when Tony and Rhodey are good, Tony and Rhodey are _good_. 

Iron Man catches him smiling with his faceplate up for no apparent reason one day, considering they’re three quarters of the way through busting an organized crime ring in the bowels of the literal worst warehouse district he has seen anywhere in the entire world. 

“This what gets you fired up, Rhodes? Burnt out meth labs really greasing the old gauntlet for ya?” Iron Man’s got one hand on his hip as he cocks his head at Rhodey, the other hand extended behind him to shoot a blast at the dwindling supply of guards and minions still trying to defend their refuse heap. 

Rhodey looks around, opting to ignore his partner being a general child as usual. There’s a steady drip coming down from the ceiling above them, but there’s barely any wetness on the floor in this dry heat, only an hard water stain expanding to blend in with the rest of the rusted-out blotches on the ground. It is truly festering in this place – some mastermind headquarters. 

“Nah,” he says easily, grabbing a big metal drum and lobbing it at the group of hostiles in his 2 o’clock. 

“Oops, bowled a spare,” Iron Man interjects and catches the remaining bad guy with a fist to the face. 

Rhodey nods, pleased, as they survey the wreckage around them, enemies sprawled out and groaning near the approximate level of their ankles. 

“I’m just feeling good, you know,” he continues from his previous line of thought. “Things are really looking up.” 

Iron Man cocks his head at him, and Rhodey could swear that the man was smiling at him underneath the armor, standing with both hands on his hips now in the center of the fallout from their battle. 

“Yeah?” his mechanized voice asks, not unkindly. “Well I’m glad to hear that, Rhodes. You deserve it.” 

Rhodey looks at him as he catches his breath, eyes distracted by the sheen of the suit flickering in the glow of the dingy ceiling lights swaying above them. 

Wait a minute. Why are the ceiling lights moving? He opens his mouth to say something about it to Iron Man, but he’s stopped by a sudden tremor starting up in the cement beneath his feet. They both look down at the ground, shifting into defensive stances as everything laying on the floor starts to vibrate. 

Then, as suddenly as it starts, it stops. Iron Man looks up at him, and Rhodey opens his mouth to speak – 

The world erupts into flames. He sees something orange flicker at the edge of his vision, and then Rhodey is blown back into the far wall before he can so much as throw an arm up to cover his face. His helmet snaps closed automatically and is blackened almost immediately from the heat of the explosion. The next few sightless moments are spent getting tossed through the room like a ragdoll on tumble dry high. He’s turned around and upside down so much he has no idea which way is up by the time the ground stops shaking and bricks stop raining down on him. His head is spinning so hard he’s afraid he might throw up inside the suit, and he can feel something wet trickling down the side of his face. 

He’s lying on the ground, trying to convince his brain that it’s still connected to the rest of his body when a computerized voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. 

_Please proceed 20 meters northeast. Iron Man requires assistance. Please proceed 20 meters northeast. Iron Man requires assistance. Please proceed –_

Rhodey snaps to attention and tries to scramble to his feet. _Iron Man_. 

It takes him a few tries before he’s able to keep his balance long enough to lurch forward. Tossing chunks of concrete and busted pipes to the side, he makes his way as fast as he can to where he can see a bit of blue light filtering through the dust hanging in the air, the voice in his helmet counting down the distance as he crosses it. 

Iron Man is buried under a pile of debris, only one set of crimson fingers uncovered, hanging limply on the rubble. He’s not moving. 

Heart in his throat, Rhodey begins the arduous process of removing the worst of the wreckage from on top of his friend, dimly grateful in the back of his mind that he seems to have not sustained any major injuries that would have prevented him from helping Iron Man. 

He removes the last large piece that was covering Iron Man’s head and most of his torso, but any triumph he may have felt is cut off abruptly as he takes in what he has revealed. 

Breath coming in great, shaking gasps now, his eyes follow the long gash down Iron Man’s neck and shoulder to just over his left breast. The metal of the suit is cracked inwards, in the center of which runs a river of red, bright against the dullness of the banged-up armor. 

For a moment he can’t move, can’t think, can’t even really hear the new instructions the computerized voice is trying to give him, but then Iron Man gives a full body shudder and tips his head backwards, coughing weakly. 

He’s still alive! 

_Colonel Rhodes!_ The voice snaps, suddenly loud enough to cut through the fog surrounding Rhodey’s brain. Somehow the inflection of the voice reminds him of JARVIS, though it’s filtered similarly to Iron Man’s. It’s familiar enough to shake him out of his stupor, though. 

_The bent portions of the suit are suffocating Iron Man_ , it says. _You must remove them immediately._

Rhodey flips back his faceplate as he crouches down and shuffles closer as best as he can in the armor. Iron Man turns his head towards him but doesn’t say anything. The silence, coming from him, is unnerving. 

“Hey buddy,” he says, trying to project a calmness that he doesn’t feel. “Everything’s okay. Just gotta get some of this armor off you before it cuts off your air supply.” 

Iron Man twitches, then, making a move that might be considered as reaching towards him if it had been more successful. 

“No,” he gasps. “Not the suit – ‘m fine.” 

Rhodey snarls, batting away Iron Man’s hands from where he’s pawing at him weakly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps. “The suit’s coming off. I don’t care who you are under there or what you’re trying to hide.” 

Iron Man has given up trying to push Rhodey’s arms away and moves instead to cover his head and upper torso, protecting himself from Rhodey’s reach. 

He’s rapidly losing patience. This is no time to be shy or to keep secrets, not when someone he cares about is in danger. He can’t go through this again. 

Finally he gets a hold of Iron Man’s wrists and pushes them aside. “Enough!” he barks out, steadfastly ignoring the way his voice is quivering now. “Is it really worth dying over?” he asks, voice catching in the middle. 

Iron Man stills, unable to keep pushing Rhodey away in his weakened state. Rhodey swears the wrenching sound his friend makes is a sob, and his chest clenches in response. 

“Your opinion,” Iron Man coughs out. “Your opinion of me changing. You hating me. That’s worse than dying.” 

Water is still dripping somewhere in the ruins of the building around them. Rhodey’s got his gauntlets off and his hands wrapped around Iron Man’s chin to search for the release, but he stills for one brief moment. 

“I didn’t know you cared about me that much,” he hears himself say. 

“I know,” Iron Man gasps. “I know you don’t know how much I care about you. I’m so sorry. _Rhodey_.” 

Struck with sudden horror and an awful, burgeoning realization, Rhodey finds the catch and wrenches the face plate off of Iron Man – to see Tony’s own dear face, deathly white and terrified, staring back up at him. 

“ _Tony_ ,” he chokes out. Fear and anger are warring against each other inside of his mind. His fingers are scrabbling now, desperately trying to follow the directions still echoing mechanically in his ears as he searches out the pieces of the armor that need to be removed and the ones that absolutely cannot be. 

And it’s _Tony_ , _Tony’s_ body trembling under his hands, _Tony’s_ blood seeping onto the gold of the chest plate, _Tony’s_ eyes staring dark and huge into his, _Tony’s_ mouth desperately gasping, trying to suck the air back into his chest. 

It had been Tony all along. Tony’s been fighting at his side for ages now. He’s saved Rhodey’s life more times than he can count, he’s been juggling SI and a consultancy for SHIELD and all those damn missions at the same time. He was the one to face and defeat Obadiah Stane. 

Tony is Iron Man. 

And once again, Rhodey’s left with the feeling that he should have known. _He should have known_. 

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me?” he grinds out, still dismantling the mangled armor that’s splintered into and strangling _his Tony_. Nausea wells up so suddenly he has to turn his head and double over to keep from losing the contents of his stomach. 

There’s a gurgling noise that has Rhodey wrenching his head back up to see Tony staring at him, moving his lips like he’s trying to speak, but there’s blood bubbling up in his mouth now, making it impossible for him to get any sound out. 

Tony’s reaching for him, straining upwards against the suit still cutting into him and bearing him down. Quickly, Rhodey grabs his hands and presses him gently back to the ground. Wide eyes track his every move; Rhodey keeps his gaze set on them even as his hands move back into place to put pressure on the wounds, unwilling to look down and see the amount of blood he’s contending with. 

“Be still,” he whispers. The voice is still babbling in his helmet, and he latches onto the ETA for the SHIELD medics gratefully. “I’m going to get you out of here. You hear me? SHIELD will be here in three minutes, Tony. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

At the sound of his name Tony sobs again, and when Rhodey leans over to press a shaking kiss to Tony’s forehead he realizes that both of their faces are wet with more than sweat and blood and he doesn’t know how long they’ve been that way. 

For the next three minutes disguised as hours, Rhodey palms the blood seeping out of Tony’s chest, trying to push it _back_ , trying to hold it in where it belongs, but Tony’s shuddering underneath his hands and gasping out every breath, causing red droplets to land on Rhodey’s face where he’s huddled in close to him. He keeps their foreheads together and their eyes locked, whispering reassurances and light scoldings that cause, unbelievably, some of the tension to relax out of Tony’s body as he soaks in Rhodey’s ministrations with relief. 

A century later the cavalry arrives, so to speak, and they use a giant Jaws of Life to cut the rest of the suit off of Tony and Rhodey’s sputtering out Tony’s blood type but they already know, _they know_ , the bastards – god _dammit_ Tony – and he’s being bundled into a stretcher and airlifted away. 

There are a few SHIELD lackeys still milling around what’s left of the warehouse, looking for other survivors or evidence or whatever it is they put highest on their priority list, but they all leave a wide berth around Rhodey where he’s left kneeling in the dirt. 

After a few moments of staring at the red covering his normally black and silver hands, a repetitive noise slowly works its way back into his consciousness. The water leak that he had noticed before, before the explosion – whatever pipe it was coming from hadn’t gotten destroyed, or maybe it was damaged even more than before. Whatever the case, it’s still dripping. 

A great, keening cry rips its way out of Rhodey’s throat, and he bows his head to the ground against the sudden weight pushing him down. He curls inwards and weeps, shaking his armor with the force of it, one hand pressed against the arc reactor in the middle of his chest and the other resting with trembling fingers on the ground that’s stained dark with Tony’s blood. 

The agents shift their rounds even farther away from him, all except one, who’s now striding quickly up to him. Through the tears spilling out of his eyes and distorting his vision, Rhodey looks at the pair of pristine boots coming to a stop in front of him. He raises his head to see Phil Coulson standing above him, his placid mouth set into an even grimmer line than usual. 

“Colonel Rhodes,” he says. “Tony needs you right now.” 

With a snarl Rhodey’s on his feet and shoving into Coulson’s space, automatically commanding the suit to stalk forwards until the agent’s back slams up against one of the remaining walls. To Rhodey’s increasing wrath, Coulson doesn’t even bat an eye, and no one around them so much as pauses to look at them. 

“Tony needs me, huh?” Grief and rage are storming through him now, putting aside their war against each other to merge forces against this calm interloper in their midst. “If Tony needs me so much, how come everyone and their mother knows more about what he’s been doing than his own _best friend_?” 

He’s shouting now, biting out each word and loosing all his frustrations into this burnt out shell of a cesspit in the middle of backwater, _nowhere_ , with no one but SHIELD stooges and Zen Master Phil over here as witness, but he _just doesn’t care_. Tony’s gone away, and he doesn’t care. 

“I guess he’s been keeping me at arm’s length because he _needs me so much_ , but you can’t even blame him! Because apparently I haven’t been keeping him out of harm’s way at all, no, I’ve been suiting up with a smile beside him and skipping into fucking _warzones_ with him instead! He’s Iron Man! You tell me, Coulson, what the _hell_ does he need me for?” 

Phil hasn’t so much as twitched in the face of Rhodey’s tirade, gazing calmly up the heavily armored chest heaving scant inches away from his face to stare with annoying assurance into Rhodey’s eyes. 

“You’re his medical proxy,” he says. 

Rhodey deflates. 

He turns and starts picking his way through the rubble to look for a spot clear enough that he can take off from. He’s got to get to wherever it is they’ve taken Tony. Forget Tony needing him – right now, _he_ needs _Tony_. 

“We were the ones to encourage Stark to keep this from you,” Coulson calls after him. Rhodey turns around from under the hole in the roof he’s about to leave through and looks at him as his repulsors fire up. The place inside him where he usually feels things is cold and silent now, Coulson’s words echoing through without even touching the walls of that cavern. 

“For what it’s worth,” Coulson continues. He doesn’t have the grace to look ashamed, but he quirks his mouth up into a little half smile that does manage to stir something up inside the blankness in Rhodey’s mind. “We know how protective you are of him.” 

He blasts off without waiting for his flight stabilizers to come online, needing that turbulence to shake some of his edges back into place, and he flies after Tony. 

Way too much time later, Rhodey’s finally watching from the observation room as they finish prepping Tony for surgery. There are complications, they’d told him, and then he’d seen the blue light glowing in the center of Tony’s chest and he’d read Tony’s full, non-redacted medical file and he’d wanted to start railing all over again, alone in the hallway with the idiot love of his life’s metaphorical bleeding heart in his shaking hands. 

He’d traced the map of shrapnel and scar tissue through the images they’d given him with numb fingers, and he’d looked at Tony, laying small and pale in the hospital bed with a mask over his face, doctors and nurses milling around anxiously, and he’d said okay. Do the surgery, he’d said, do whatever you have to do. 

So they’d left him to stand, silent and stricken beyond the glass wall separating him from Tony as they prepared to plunge their hands into him and try to pull him back together again. 

He’s watching the surgery now from somewhere outside of himself. He feels frozen and lifeless, like all the strength has gone out of him now that there’s nothing left for him to do to help Tony. 

Pepper comes bursting in through the door and he turns, just a little, and wonders what is on his face that is causing hers to look even more frightened every second she stares at him. 

There are tears in her eyes as she takes in the sight of the operating room in front of them, and her gaze falls to the metal exposed in Tony’s chest. 

“Oh my god,” she says in a whisper. “It’s true.” 

Then he’s crumpling as she exclaims in alarm, and she catches him in her arms and sits him down, and Rhodey clutches her and falls apart, again, because _she hadn’t known either._

They stay like that for a long time, until the surgery is complete, and a tired-looking doctor comes in to tell them – the surgery was a success, Tony’s being moved into a room now, he’s going to be just fine. 

Pepper has to get back to the company so Rhodey follows the doctor on shaking legs to Tony’s private room in SHIELD’s secure critical care unit. He feels numb and knows he looks calm on the surface, but inside he’s retreating ever inward, pillars cracking and tumbling in his wake, dangerously close to bringing the whole structure down. 

They leave him alone with the sounds of machines beeping and a stillness in Tony’s body that’s unnatural even in his sleep. Rhodey pulls a chair up as close as he can get to the bed and leans himself forward to lay on top of Tony’s lower legs, the parts of him that were the least damaged in the blast. He tucks his hands under Tony’s calves and buries his face into his bony shins and lets the steady tempo of the heart monitor lull him to sleep. 

When he wakes up, there are fingers rubbing lightly across the short hairs on his scalp, callouses catching gently every so often. He blinks and sits up a little, noticing that he’d shifted in his sleep so he was laying with his head now pillowed on the mattress near Tony’s hip. 

Rhodey sits up quickly to find Tony awake and looking at him, and the moment slows to a stop as they take each other in. Tony’s hand falls away to lay on top of the blanket, fingers twitching either with nerves or aborted intentions to move. 

There are tears standing in Tony’s eyes. He looks terrified. 

All of Rhodey’s half-hearted plans of screaming his frustration at Tony until his voice gives out or alternatively, never speaking to him again – they all fall by the wayside immediately. 

His shoulders sag, and he breaks eye contact, looking back down at where his hands are now clenched into the sheets. “I’ll be back,” he says. “But I can’t do this right now.” 

“Rhodey – “ Tony starts, but he’s already leaning up and away, shifting so he can stand. Tony’s hand reaches out for his a moment too late. 

Rhodey’s moving across the room and already out of reach. 

They manage to keep Tony in the hospital for a week between him and Pepper, and Rhodey has to wonder how much of this newfound complacence is due to guilt. 

Pepper’s handling it better than Rhodey, but then again that’s always been the case when it comes to Tony. Rhodey’s too far in, too close at heart to the issue, always too vulnerable on the front lines of the battle of Tony Stark. 

She’s taking care of most of the day-to-day affairs while Rhodey goes to work, handles SHIELD, and pretends like everything is normal, heading straight to the hospital every evening to watch over Tony until the morning comes again. 

He keeps his distance, refusing to join any conversation Tony tries to start with him about any subject heavier than what flavor of jello he wants with lunch. Tony just looks at him with those scared, sad eyes, and for the first time in Rhodey’s life he doesn’t let them move him. 

Eventually, Tony stops trying. 

The thing is, Rhodey gets it. He knows how Tony sees things, can work through every decision made that led them up to this point. Fortunately or not, he is fluent in Tony-logic, that paradigm where everyone in the world keeps their eyes on Tony Stark, and not one person looking understands what it is that they see. He understands why Iron Man is the way he has to be. 

Rhodey just thought he might be different, that’s all. He thought Tony might hold him to a different regard than the rest of the world, after all the care and loyalty and love he’s shown him. Hell, maybe he even thought that if he was ever stupid enough to tell Tony his true feelings towards him, like he had inadvertently done while talking to Iron Man, that Tony might – however tentatively – return them. 

Turns out he was fooling himself the whole time. 

Only once does Tony worm his way far enough under his skin for Rhodey to give voice to any of what he’s thinking. 

Tony’s back at the house now, and Rhodey is still coming every day to check on him and make sure he has everything he needs, but Tony is healing and working and grumbling at everyone hovering around him, so he figures it’s time for him to go. 

Apparently Tony hadn’t been expecting him to go quite so far. 

“Kabul,” Tony says flatly. Rhodey slides his deployment orders back over to himself and tilts his chin up, keeping his features blank and neutral. 

“You’re going to Kabul,” Tony repeats. “For how long?” 

“Nine months,” Rhodey says, and pretends not to notice the scowl that overtakes Tony’s face. “I’ll still be available as War Machine if needed for a mission and will be taking one extended weekend each month to debrief with SHIELD.” 

“Of course,” Tony mutters. “Can’t forget your responsibilities to _SHIELD,_ gotta keep your priorities straight.” 

Rhodey feels the little flare of annoyance shooting through him, but he tries to push it back down. Tony has been pretty docile and meek around him since he got home, though, so maybe he’s out of practice. 

“I’ll be heading out next week,” Rhodey says. “So anything you need me to help out with around here before I go, better tell me now.” 

Tony stares at him. “You’re serious right now?” he asks. “You’re just gonna fuck off to the other side of the world because you’re pissed at me, so you don’t even have to talk to me?” 

The anger inside of him bubbles up a little more, the lid on his feelings trying to edge upwards and sneak away. 

“Not everything is about you, Tony,” Rhodey grits out, ignoring the fact that they both know that’s a lie, at least when it comes to him. “I have a job to do; I can’t hang around here babysitting you for no reason.” 

The words are cruel, and they sting as they make their way out, and something hot and hard inside of him is glad when they make Tony flinch. But now that they’ve been breathed into life, he can’t quite keep the next few words from tumbling out afterwards. 

“It’s not like you actually need me for anything,” he can’t bite the words back before they leave his mouth. Tony furrows his brow at him, and he curses mentally. 

Of course Tony seizes on that opportunity to push the issue, trying to resurrect the conversation Rhodey’s killed prematurely so many times over the past few weeks. 

He grabs Rhodey’s hands and leans forward earnestly, all while Rhodey’s brain is screaming _disengage_ and trying desperately to shore up its defenses, to figure out a way to retreat. 

“That’s not true,” Tony says softly, and Rhodey is helpless to look away. 

“You know,” Tony says a little more firmly, “That you are the most important person to me. I don’t trust anyone the way I trust you.” 

It burns. Right in the base of his throat, then shooting up behind his sinuses and making his eyes water with it. He can’t believe Tony can look him in the eye and say that. 

“Apparently not,” he manages, and he’s pulling away, turning quickly so he can’t see Tony’s face and walking out the door. 

Tony doesn’t call him back or talk to him at all over the next several days, and he doesn’t return to the mansion before he leaves. 

His plane touches down at 0900 hours, and as he steps onto the tarmac he resolutely does not wonder whether Tony is getting any sleep or whether he’s still in his workshop, buried in some project for SHIELD or SI, or working on his Iron Man armor. 

He takes in the now familiar landscape in front of him, watches as it shimmers in the heat. The idea of a wayward traveler seeing the mirage of an oasis in the sands appeals to him, as he discovers over the course of the next several weeks that he too is striving for something he can’t quite grasp. 

Turns out, the Afghani desert is not the best place to forget Tony Stark. 

Rhodey does his damndest, though, tries to focus on himself like he knows he needs to, tries to step out of the constant sway of the lodestone pulling all of his thoughts back to different place, half a planet away. He flips the channel every time the news starts talking about the wildfires encroaching on southern California and removes the Malibu time from his phone, ignoring the fact that he has the difference memorized anyways. 

He doesn’t see Tony during his weekends with SHIELD, no matter which coast the office his meetings are held at. He gives the exact same monthly report on SI’s weapons manufacturing position – _no production, no changes_ – until they stop asking for anything else. He shakes that compass in his mind like a magic 8-ball every time the arrow settles west and hopes it will swing some other way, looks in vain for an answer to appear other than _not likely._

It’s not that he’s directionless. It’s _not._

Maybe Tony has been the framework of his life since he was 17 and stepping into his dorm room, meeting the wide eyes and poorly-hidden shaking hands of his roommate for the first time. Maybe Tony was what he always set his sights on when he was training or deployed, a consistent desire he could hang his goals and dreams on, a steady target leading him home. Maybe he never had to figure out what he wanted from life, because he already knew that it was Tony. 

Maybe things shouldn’t be that way. Maybe that wasn’t healthy for him. 

He’d never cared to find out before. 

And now, now he no longer has the time to figure it out. Their relationship had never been this way before, and Rhodey isn’t sure where he’s supposed to go from here. Isn’t sure _how_ to go on from here, if he ever actually found the right way to begin with. 

He doesn’t want to live his life without Tony. But he doesn’t know how – how he can do this. 

Every time he tries to think about how he could go back to Tony, figure out how to piece their relationship back together, he can’t work his way through reconfiguring where they stand with each other, knowing it’s a lot farther apart than he ever knew. He touches that pain and recoils every time like a hand away from a hot stove, and he doesn’t know how to get past that. 

But, he’s not really thinking about it. He’s _not._

He keeps on not thinking about it right up until he gets a frantic call from Pepper in Monaco, and he turns on the TV to see a shitshow blaring from every channel. 

_ATTACK ON GRAND PRIX – IS TONY STARK IRON MAN?_

The headlines are everywhere. Tony had apparently decided it was a great idea for him to _drive_ the Stark car in the damn race only to get promptly attacked by some rip-off arc reactor wielding maniac with giant electric whips. 

And Tony, stupid, brave, _infuriating_ man, had suited up right there in front of God and Channel 3 and everybody, and Iron Man had stopped the attack before anybody else could get hurt. 

Rhodey watches the footage of his best friend kneeling on the tarmac, wrapping the end of a sizzling whip around himself that could have shorted out the armor, shorted out the _arc reactor._ He breathes out a prayer and a curse, realizing that _this_ could have been the way he’d found out who was under the suit. 

Tony’s birthday party is canceled in the hubbub, only to be replaced by an emergency Congressional hearing as politicians and generals alike start frothing at the mouth over the revelation, over this _unknowable threat to national security,_ as Justin Hammer puts it. 

So he pulls together the first real report he’s written on the subject in months and heads to DC. 

His heart beats so loud he’s sure his medals have to be vibrating on his chest as he walks into the room, cameras flashing and people rising all around him to murmur at each other as he makes his way down the aisle, Tony meeting him halfway with an outstretched hand and an unreadable look in his eyes. 

He knows Tony is wondering whether this is payback on Rhodey’s part, but it’s not, Rhodey would never throw him under the bus like that. He will always be on Tony’s side. 

As Tony peacocks all over the members of the farcical hearing, indolent and competent and brilliant in his indignation, Rhodey has to keep reminding himself to breathe, has to force his eyes downwards every so often because all he wants to do is lean back and bask in the frenzy. 

They try to make the point that someone else should be piloting the suit, that Tony is unfit and a liability, and Rhodey surprises himself with a smile behind his hands, inexplicably relieved – he doesn’t even need to be the one to defend Tony this time. 

Tony is irradiant, pounding his hand onto the table he’s sitting at and curving forward into a mocking slouch, derision pouting his lips and glinting in his eyes. He curses and rallies and puts on a show, rude and ridiculous and vicious as he shows the – yes, the _assclowns_ – how little he thinks of them. 

Rhodey has to cover his face because Tony is being atrocious, and he can’t help but laugh as his chest loosens enough for him to get a full breath in for the first time in months. 

He knows he’s grinning like a fool as he heads out after Tony’s inglorious exit, his true feelings on the matter caught by a thousand camera flashes and video recordings, but with Tony’s voice still echoing stridently in his ears and warmth spreading throughout his middle, he really doesn’t care. 

He’s still smiling as he changes his flight the next day to Malibu, refusing to think about why, and he stays smiling as he lets himself into Tony’s house and greets JARVIS warmly and heads downstairs. His smile starts to falter a little as he sees several walls torn out and a smattering of rubble on the floor, and then his heart almost stops completely when he reaches the bottom to see Tony slumped over a workbench, something cold and blue glowing beside him. 

Cursing, he runs over to Tony, calling his name frantically, only for Tony to sit up just before he reaches him and blink groggily at him. He’s sleep-wrinkled in a rumpled robe, blinking open sticky lashes and wiping a spot of drool off his lip, and he’s absolutely gorgeous and Rhodey can’t even take the time to appreciate that because there are huge black lines of blood poisoning emanating out from the arc reactor on Tony’s uncovered chest. 

“ _Tony_ ,” he breathes, hands finding their way to Tony’s shoulders without Rhodey’s permission. His thumbs slide over the marked skin, but Tony just waves him off and straightens the robe around him and leans out of his reach, tossing the shining blue object that had been beside him up and down in his hands. 

“Don’t worry, I already got it all figured out. Made a new arc reactor, just running some diagnostics before I pop it in,” he says with studied disinterest. 

Rhodey stares at him, but Tony won’t meet his eyes. “JARVIS?” he asks faintly. 

“Sir has reached 97% blood poisoning from the palladium reactor core but will be able to safely replace that with this new synthesized element before any more damage is done,” JARVIS answers. 

“Traitor,” Tony mumbles. He turns around to fiddle with something else on the bench, putting his back to Rhodey. 

He wants to ask him, ask _why didn’t you tell me?_ Again. But he figures nothing in the past several months would give him reason to think that Tonywould have confided in him at all. He’d been so pissed at the little bit of distance Tony had still held between them that he went and let him turn it into an unbreachable gulf. 

Head spinning, Rhodey collapses onto a stool beside Tony and leans back to stare at the ceiling. Tony glances at him from the corner of his eye, then looks away without saying anything. 

They sit in silence for several minutes. 

“97%,” he repeats dully. That’s how close he came to losing Tony. _Again._ And not from bullets or terrorists or falling out of the sky during open combat. He would have been at home, surrounded by JARVIS and the bots and no one would have been able to protect him. 

But he’s still here. Against all odds, Tony figured it out. He saved himself, _again._ The ceiling blurs as tears fill up Rhodey’s eyes. 

How many times does he have to come so close to losing Tony? Rhodey looks back over to where Tony is drumming his fingers on the table, head ducking down restlessly as he takes measured breaths and waits. Sunlight from the shop windows is filtering through his eyelashes, turning them gold, and he flicks them up skywards and bites his lip, and Rhodey can’t for the life of him figure out why he hasn’t been spending every possible moment that he can with this man. 

The only sounds are a faint click as the AC turns off and Tony’s increasingly rapid breathing. 

He stands up in time to catch Tony as he sags, hunching into himself and wrapping his arms around his head as a sob wracks his frame. 

“Come on,” Rhodey says quietly as he tugs Tony to his feet. Tony lets him wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him in to shake hot tears onto the thin cloth of his shirt as he leads them upstairs. 

He intends to get Tony cleaned up and fed and put to bed until the new arc reactor is ready to go, but Tony’s knees give out as they hit the top of the steps and he’s shaking his head no over and over again and trying to force words out that Rhodey can’t understand, so he guides him over to collapse onto the couch instead. 

Words pour out of Tony’s mouth, apologies and frustrations and explanations, spilled first into his hands as he cradles his head and speaks, then into Rhodey’s chest when he gathers him close and holds him through it. He’s listening as Tony makes his amends, of course, but mostly he’s just relishing the feeling of having this man in his arms again, where he belongs. No matter what, that’s always made Rhodey feel like everything was right with the world. 

“I should have trusted you, Rhodey,” Tony’s saying. “You’ve always had my back. _Always._ And it’s not that I didn’t trust you, not really, I just needed to some time to figure everything out. I had no idea what I was doing. And yeah, you could have helped me like you always do, but I had to get used to this new – _reality,_ this new identity, and I – I pushed you away like I always do, and I hurt you, and that’s the very last thing I ever wanted to do. You mean more to me than anyone, you know that right? Rhodey…” 

Rhodey slips his fingers through Tony’s hair as he winds down, brushes the last of his tears from his cheeks when the words finally trickle to a stop, and Tony realizes that he’s said everything he can think of to say and now he’s done. 

Tony stares at him, wide-eyed and hurting and exhausted but completely present, open, and honest with him at last. 

“You can’t do this anymore, Tones,” Rhodey whispers, and thumbs away the tears that threaten to escape again. “ _I_ can’t do this anymore. I don’t want you to shut me out again. No more secrets. Okay? Whatever you got going on, I want to know about it. And I want to help you. But you have to promise me, Tony.” 

Tony lays his head down onto Rhodey’s shoulder, wet eyes pushed into his neck and fingers gripping his shirt tightly, and he promises. 

They stay wrapped together like that for a long time, until Tony’s breathing evens out and Rhodey sees the beginning of a fog rolling in over the ocean before he too falls asleep. 

An alarm blaring through the house sends them both jolting awake at once. “Apologies, sirs,” JARVIS says once the alarm stops. “You’re needed for a situation at the Stark Expo.” 

They tumble off the couch together and race towards the workshop as JARVIS briefs them with the info SHIELD has compiled so far. 

Rhodey has a moment where he has to stop moving and concentrate on making himself breathe as Tony switches out his arc reactor, shudders, then steps into an already intact Iron Man suit and lets it envelope him. 

Iron Man stares at him for a minute, uncertainly. The face plate pops open, and Rhodey sucks in a deep breath. 

“You’re coming right?” Tony asks, shifting his weight in the armor nervously before realizing what he’s doing and forcing himself still, snapping his fingers together instead. It’s such a Tony thing to do, and the mannerism is only magnified through the gold-titanium plating. Rhodey spares a minute to berate himself for his previous blindness and possibly willful ignorance, then a panel is opening on the far wall and a gleaming black and gunmetal gray War Machine suit is revealed. 

“Cause, I made you a better suit,” Tony continues with practiced nonchalance. “Got rid of all that shitty Hammer Tech the government keeps trying to foist onto you.” 

Rhodey walks over to the suit and lets his eyes roam all over it, taking in the all the weapons and other features that keep it so distinct from the smooth lines of Tony’s own. It’s beautiful. 

“Not like I really need your help or anything,” Tony says as he scuffs the ground with one armored boot. “But, could be fun. You know. For old time’s sake.” 

He can’t help but to chuckle out a little laugh as he shakes his head, then signals for JARVIS to begin assembling the suit around him. When he’s ready, he turns back to Tony in time to see his eyes shining and his face lit up like a little kid at Christmas, before he’s clearing his throat and snapping the gold faceplate down like Rhodey didn’t already see. 

Rhodey leaves his faceplate up as he rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder and looks into the bright blue shining space for Tony’s eyes. “I already told you,” he says. “You ride with me.” 

Iron Man makes an aborted gesture like he was going to reach for him and thought better of it, then Tony’s shooing him out of his blast zone and muttering brusquely to himself. “Gonna give me a cavity, Rhodes, jeez.” 

Behind War Machine’s mask, flying up into the air and accelerating through the atmosphere, Rhodey just grins. 

The shitty part is that after Vanko and his drones are defeated, Rhodey has to leave. There’s a moment, afterwards, when they’re on the rooftop catching their breath and watching the Expo combust below them. Tony looks at him, chest heaving and eyes alight, and Rhodey almost leans in. Almost. 

But the comms in their ears won’t quit barking orders and questions at them and his CO is already on the line demanding a full report from him, so Rhodey grits his teeth and steps back. Tony nods at him, the same almost-hungry expression never leaving his face as watches Rhodey take off. 

He’s left wondering at the notion he has, a certain type of feeling – that whatever it was that passed between the two of them won’t be abandoned, not this time, but only postponed. He holds tight onto that in the long months that follow, tucks it in close to his chest so he can breathe more easily as he finally finishes the rest of his suddenly excruciating tour overseas. 

It’s spring in southern California when he finally steps foot back on American soil. 

Tony and he had been in constant communication this time, while he was away. Their conversations had slipped back in the old familiar patterns, though Tony had been making an effort to keep Rhodey in the loop for once, broadening the scope of the information he pulled forth for him until Rhodey felt like, somehow, twenty-odd years into their relationship, he’d never known Tony better. 

He knew how hard that had to be for him, made sure to thank him in ways that he would accept and in return to give him the same level of access to Rhodey’s life as he’d always enjoyed before – that is to say, one hundred percent. Still that underlying tension simmered between them, every time they talked, every message passed across the Atlantic, every moment of every video call, lingering long after the screen stopped showing him Tony’s face, half-smiling and fidgeting, dark eyes staring warm and intense into his. 

And now, Rhodey’s back again. For all intents and purposes, he’s home. As he walks in the door, he’s brought up short to see Tony standing there in the entryway waiting for him. He has a half second to fear that everything between them would somehow go back to the way it used be, before Tony’s eyes meet his, and with a jump he launches himself into Rhodey’s arms. 

A laugh startles out of him as he’s swept up into a bone-crushing hug, and Tony grins at him, warm and close. They just stare at each other for a minute, and then Tony unpeels himself and steps away, smoothing his shirt down and clearing his throat. 

Rhodey just cocks an eyebrow at Tony as he runs a hand through his hair and tries to pull himself together into an unaffected front. The thought occurs to him that for all that Tony is always the most open, the most relaxed, the most _himself,_ around Rhodey, this is still about as unguarded as he’d ever seen him. 

Maybe…maybe it’s time for something new. Maybe this is the chance he’d been waiting for. 

“Go out to dinner with me tonight?” he asks before he can give himself the chance to think about it. Tony’s still somewhat bashful expression turns surprised, and then questioning. It’s obvious he can tell something about this invitation is different from the thousands of times they had gone out together in the past. Rhodey’s heart thumps painfully in his chest. 

“Sure,” Tony says slowly, eyeing Rhodey curiously. He seems to find whatever he was looking for as he takes a deep breath and turns to face Rhodey fully. “Yes,” he says more firmly. “I would love to.” 

Rhodey searches for his face for a few more moments. This is him laying all his cards out on the table – because Tony _knows_ how he feels about him now. But Tony holds his gaze, steady and warm, and relieved laughter bubbles out of Rhodey’s throat before he can quite reel it in. 

They go back to Tony’s favorite Mexican place. The server leads them out to their table on the far side of the patio, but this time Rhodey doesn’t give them a chance to sit across from each other. Tony looks up, a little confused, as Rhodey shoos him into the farther chair, but ends up biting back a smile as Rhodey sits down beside him and tucks him into the corner so he’s shielded from the rest of the room. With the waves pounding away at the shore on the other side of the railing and Rhodey a protective barrier beside him, the last bits of tension ease from Tony’s shoulders, and he brightens more and more as they relax and enjoy their dinner. 

He does give Rhodey a _look,_ when Rhodey rests his arm on the back of Tony’s chair, but he mercifully restrains himself from commenting about it. Then the lights hung all around them are sparkling off of their drinks, and Rhodey’s leaning in to say something to Tony while he’s offering up a chip for Rhodey to eat and they collide, and there’s queso everywhere but they’re laughing so hard that he can finally remember how to breathe. 

And Rhodey – he doesn’t try to hide, not tonight. He lets all of his emotions play out on his face in full force, every single one of them, and he knows that Tony sees. At first he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing in return. He blinks a few times, but the view never changes – _Tony Stark is blushing._ Tony Stark is blushing because of _him._

When they bring dessert out Tony leans into Rhodey’s arm and lets out a full-throated belly laugh when Rhodey pretends to feed him but smears whipped cream all over his face instead. 

Clouds are rolling in off the ocean by the time they leave, and Tony is so distracted he lets Rhodey pay. He’s deep into an engineering rant when they tumble into the backseat of the car, cheeks flushed and sneaking looks at Rhodey like he’s waiting for the spell to break. 

Rhodey just smiles and drags him closer, pulls his legs up to rest on his lap as Tony rambles on about his latest breakthrough. Tony looks amused at Rhodey’s rearranging of them, but he leans into it and rests his hand almost casually against Rhodey’s stomach, thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly as he talks, the whole way back. The rain starts up along the way, the pattering on the roof a soothing background to their conversation, separating them from the outside world and penning them in close. 

By the time they reach the house, Rhodey’s _almost_ out of his mind. They run through the downpour up the drive, giddy with laughter and the chase, and they’re damp and steaming when the door finally shuts behind them. 

There’s a second as the latch clicks, a yawning eternity of uncertainty he could lose himself in. Rhodey pushes it away. There’s no longer any doubt in his mind, and he’s tired of the wait. 

Tony spins abruptly on his heel, putting him back in Rhodey’s space, and he moves forward before he can even think. In the next breath he has Tony plastered up to the wall, pressed close and sinking in against him so insistently that he can feel Tony’s pulse in the hips under his hands. 

Tony immediately makes a space for him and pulls him in, and his eyes are blown wide and dark where they stare at him under those lashes, but the look on his face is hesitant and unsure. Rhodey wants to make that go away. 

“Do you want this?” Rhodey murmurs, tilting in. “Because I want this. _Tony._ I want you, any way I can have you, but only if you really want me in return.” 

Fingers dig into Rhodey’s arms as Tony swallows and his eyes flutter closed. “I’m terrified of this,” he admits. “If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Oh, Tony,” Rhodey lays his forehead against his. “You could never lose me. Nothing you could ever do would push me away so far I wouldn’t come back.” 

Tony huffs out a laugh at this and looks at him again, one side of his mouth quirking up. “I know,” he says wryly. “I’ve tried.” 

Rhodey glares at him a little for that, but the effect is probably undermined by the way his hands are sliding upwards, brushing the back of Tony’s neck to cup his head and wind through his hair. 

“Tony,” he tries again. Their lips are only a hair’s breadth away. Tony groans and leans his head back into Rhodey’s hands, putting his neck on display. 

“You gotta say,” Rhodey whispers, suddenly afraid. But his friend just looks at him and smiles and leans back in. 

“I want you,” Tony says, then he closes the short distance between them. 

Rhodey can’t help but moan as Tony’s lips press into his. Everything he’s been waiting for all these years, and he almost can’t comprehend the moment he’s in. He’s so light-headed with it he lets Tony control the kiss for a few long, glorious minutes, goatee pricking his chin and lips sliding slick over his. 

All at once his soul snaps back into his body and his eyes fly open to see Tony looking at him. Rhodey takes just a moment to savor – the taste of Tony’s mouth on his tongue and Tony’s body under his hands and Tony’s solid warmth he’s pushed up against the wall. Then Tony sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth again, and Rhodey loses it. 

He surges up to claim Tony’s mouth ruthlessly, pushing inside as soon as Tony gasps so he can map him out completely. There’s no space left between them; Tony shivers in his arms and whines from how little give he finds there. He wonders if Tony will bruise from how tightly he’s holding onto him. 

Tony’s lips pull away from his to suck in a much-needed breath. “God, yeah,” he grins. Rhodey doesn’t want that smile to leave his face, so he attacks Tony’s neck instead, using the hands he still has buried in Tony’s hair to tilt his head back for better access. 

Under his palms Tony shifts and moans, one leg wrapping around his to pull their hips close as his hands roam anywhere over Rhodey they can reach, never settling in one place for long. Rhodey’s so focused on the one sliding up his shoulder to press encouragingly on the back of his head as he sucks a bruise into the skin of Tony’s throat, that he’s taken by surprise when the other hand suddenly lands below his belt, unzipping his fly and pulling him out before he can realize what’s going on. 

“Jesus,” Rhodey says, looking back up to the smug expression on Tony’s face as he strokes him. Rhodey rolls his eyes. “You got no patience, man, no finesse.” 

Tony bares his teeth at him. “I’ll show you finesse,” he promises, eyes dark with intent. 

Rhodey pulls them away from the wall, then spends the next few minutes trying to untangle himself from the insistence of Tony’s mouth and hands. 

“Hang on,” he laughs breathlessly as the fingers he’d just extracted find their way back into his pants. “Sneaky little shit,” he huffs as he walks them backwards across the room. Tony’s lips are thin from the smile pulling them apart as he breathes kisses onto Rhodey’s skin that are mostly teeth. 

“Like a goddamn octopus,” Rhodey grumbles as he smiles so hard his face starts to hurt. 

Tony hums and kisses him again. “Platypus,” he agrees, warm and as pleased as he could be. 

At the last minute before Rhodey’s about to drop them down onto the couch, Tony seems to realize where they are and stiffens. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, gaze turning wide and hesitant into his. 

Rhodey’s hands tighten on Tony’s arms briefly, and he has to remind himself that certain people are already dead. He looks down the hall to the bedroom that Tony barely uses, then has a better idea. 

“Come on,” he says softly, and leads Tony downstairs. 

Rhodey lays him out on the old comfy couch down in the workshop instead. Tony stares up at him with so much heat, so much goddamn vulnerability offered up and open just for him, that he finds himself blinking back tears. 

He eases himself down on top of him and spends the rest of the night taking him apart. 

When they wake up the next morning, the sun is already high in the sky, JARVIS has opened the windows in the workshop to let in a warm breeze, and Dum-E has just started a pot of coffee. 

Rhodey has Tony tucked up against the back of the couch, legs tangled together with Tony’s head resting close on his arm. As Rhodey blinks the sleep out of his eyes, he sees that Tony is already awake, lazy smile making its way across his face. 

Then Rhodey’s surging into wakefulness all at once as Tony pulls him closer with a hand on his hip, pressing the stiff heat there up to slide against his own. He groans, long and low until Tony’s lips meet his, and he lets his lover pull them into the best kind of sweet, unhurried _good morning, hello._

He wraps his arms tight around Tony until there’s no room for hands in between them, and Tony hangs on to him in return as they move against each other slowly. His hand finds its way slipping down Tony’s back until he can push his fingers in where Tony is still wet and open from the night before. 

Tony gasps and throws his leg up over Rhodey’s waist, crushing them together as he undulates where he’s pinned inside of Rhodey’s arms. Rhodey presses him down and their tongues slide together as Tony moans into his mouth and shudders, and heat blooms between them as they come. 

Their day begins syrupy slow, trading kisses in the shower and cooking breakfast together, or rather, Tony mainlining coffee as Rhodey mans the stove. It’s near noon by the time they can say they’re ready for the day, and they find themselves back down in the workshop as Tony flips open some files and tries to settle into his projects. 

Rhodey watches him quietly as he pretends to busy himself with his work. There’s a steady tension drawing his shoulders up to his neck, and he’s sneaking glances at Rhodey when he thinks he can’t see. 

He sighs out a laugh and grins cheekily at Tony when he turns around to scowl at him. Oh, Rhodey knows exactly what is going through that big brain of his. He’s worrying about a million things, wondering where their relationship will go now and how many ways he can fuck everything up. 

Well, they don’t have time for all that. Rhodey’s been through it enough for the both of them. 

He grabs a spare bolt lying on a workbench and flicks it at Tony, bursting out laughing when it hits him square in the side of the head and Tony jumps, nearly falling off of his stool. 

“What the hell?” Tony gripes. 

Rhodey just smiles at him. “We’re doing this, right?” he asks, catching Tony’s eyes and not letting them leave. “All of it?” 

Tony looks at him for a beat, an intensity of emotions bleeding across his face before he blinks them back and returns Rhodey’s grin. 

“Yes,” he says, the seriousness in his face at odds with the lightness shining through his features, and they stare simply at each other for a minute. 

Then Tony sniffs. “If you think you can keep up with me, Rhodes,” he says with a haughty look. 

Rhodey just snorts and keeps throwing things at him until the tightness eases from Tony’s shoulders completely and he starts chasing him around the workshop with the bots in mock outrage. 

Before he leaves, Rhodey pulls Tony into his arms and kisses him deeply. When he pulls away, Tony’s positively beaming at him. 

“Think you’ll make it all day?” Tony murmurs as he brushes his lips against Rhodey’s and smirks. Rhodey leans in to nip sharply behind his ear in retaliation, humming knowingly at the resulting gasp. 

“I will if you can,” he says, then kisses Tony again to distract him when he gets a look on his face like he’s considering following Rhodey to the base. 

“I’ll be back tonight for dinner,” he assures him. 

Tony lets him leave, he thinks, but then he’s running after Rhodey and pulling him in for one more kiss, then another and another, blushing and muttering under his breath the whole time. He finally pushes Rhodey, laughing and feeling 20 years younger, out of the door. 

Rhodey smiles into the sunshine and makes his way down the drive, feet leaving prints on the wet asphalt still drying from the rain the night before. There’s the sound of a whine and a roar and his suit is landing beside him. 

He steps in and takes off, whooping, into the sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came to me out of nowhere and ended up being a work of love. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Join me in pro-shipping, multi-shipping, Tony Stark stan hell on [tumblr.](https://copper-mouth.tumblr.com/)


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